


Naked and Afraid

by AstriferousSprite



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstriferousSprite/pseuds/AstriferousSprite
Summary: In which Priscilla nearly walks in on Toby and Adil, and shenanigans ensue. Set during the opening of episode 6.
Relationships: Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Naked and Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes you have an idea that is stuck with you for months on end and all of a sudden you're writing dumb shenanigans for these two..... Anyways, enjoy!!

When Toby wakes up that morning, he expects it to be just like any other.

It’s one of his few days off, so he gets to sleep in a little past the sunrise, lounge around in his sleep clothes for a few extra hours, and relax while listening to the drone of the wireless in the background—

—and then the announcer sequentially says the words “Paddington” and "bomb” and “killed everyone inside” and his whole world comes crashing down, and it’s all he can do to not collapse into a heap of panic on the floor because damn it, _Adil_ lives near Paddington, and if he was in that shelter last night when… when the bombs… if he was truly…

It’s not fair, he thinks as he clenches his fists, that the best thing in his life was cruelly taken away by an act of chance, and so soon after it just started… _hang on._

Any chances of dwelling on that suddenly sentimental thought are dashed when someone knocks. Toby startles, having enough sense to silence the wireless before opening the door and—

“Oh, thank God!”

Maybe he could have waited for the door to fully close before kissing the daylights out of Adil, but really, he just thought him dead but a few moments ago; if anything, he should be commended on the self-control it took to _not_ jump him the moment his gorgeous face popped into view. For his part, Adil seems almost amused at how much Toby’s fretting over him, gently teasing him as if he wasn’t just potentially in mortal danger just a few minutes ago.

“You were that worried about me, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” murmurs Toby. “You have no idea.”

He leans in and kisses the smirk right off Adil’s face.

Adil wraps his arms around his waist as their kisses grow more passionate, Toby pulling himself as close as possible to the other man as all his anxiety from that morning gets channeled into wanton desperation. Soon, his paisley dressing gown drops to the floor right next to the subtle cream of Adil’s jacket, and he finds himself fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as Adil presses hot and heavy kisses to his collarbone—and when his feet hit the side of the bed, they both willingly tumble onto it, Toby’s back hitting the soft sheets as Adil towers over him, his hands gently resting against his bare chest. He wonders if he can feel the frantic tattoo of his heart, the declaration of love beating in his chest; as Adil makes love to him, achingly slowly as they both savor the novelty of it all, he wonders if he loves him back.

And then the door creaks open.

Toby freezes up. So does Adil, pausing long enough from kissing a trail down his neck to look up at Toby, eyes wide with terror, and Toby barely has a split second before he’s shimmying out from beneath him, hastily throwing the blanket over him, and struggling into his dressing gown before his mother comes barging in.

“Mother!” he says, patting his hair down and desperately trying to think of shipping statistics and quadratics. “I thought I told you to knock!”

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, stepping in—of course, already impeccably dressed for the day while he’s still in nothing but his little robe, which feels really weird against his bare— _x equals negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac all over 2a_ _— “_ I thought we already established that wasn’t a problem.”

“Yes, well—”

She takes another step into the bedroom; Toby pulls the blanket tighter around him, hoping she doesn’t notice the suspicious lump on his right. “You didn’t show up for breakfast this morning,” she says. “I was getting worried.”

And really, Toby supposes he can’t get cross with her over simple maternal concern, but he really wishes she had picked a better time, especially since he can’t exactly explain to her why he had foregone breakfast; the reason for his absence is still huddled underneath the covers, and Toby can feel his hair brushing against his thigh. “It’s fine,” he says, reaching to twist his signet ring. “Just a hard day at work yesterday.”

“Is that so?” She tuts, looking at him with such tender concern—and really, it’s a relief, because just at that moment, Toby’s eyes catch on the plethora of clothes scattered on the floor.

The men’s clothes.

The men’s _uniform._

“Y-yes,” he stammers, his voice unusually high as he tries to look away from Adil’s jacket and back at his mother. “We’re really up against it, I’m afraid—”

And right beside him, Adil sneezes.

Priscilla stops, the faint smile dropping from her face. “Toby?” she asks carefully. “What was that?”

 _Shit._ “Oh, er, it was—” Come on, isn’t it his bloody job to be clever? “—it was me, I’m afraid.” He nervously chuckles. “I told you, we’re really up against it.” For emphasis, he fakes a sneeze of his own, burying his head in the crook of his paisley-sleeved arm. “Must be a cold of some sort.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” says Priscilla. “You have been looking quite tired as of late—” Her eyes suddenly narrow.

“What is it?” he asks, hoping the panic that suddenly shoots through his heart isn’t obvious.

“Your neck.” She cocks her head. “It’s all bruised up.”

 _X equals negative b plus or minus the square root—_ “R-really?” he asks, voice cracking ever so slightly as he tries as hard as he can not to reach out to the assortment of hickeys that are definitely dotting the side of his neck. _Thanks, Adil._ “I, er, I, well I suppose that—”

_Think fast, Hamilton._

“…they, er, I mean, it must be the rash,” he finally stammers out. “From the detergent that—no, the _starch_ they’re using on the collars, I don’t know, they must have swapped it out, right?” He forces a chuckle. “It gets dreadfully itchy.”

His mother, for her part, shakes her head. “Absolutely unacceptable,” she says.

“Mother, please—”

“I mean, I know there’s a war going on, but that’s no excuse for a drop in service!” She huffs, throwing her arms up. “First the maids bring up the staff laundry to your room, and now they’ve switched to a detergent that causes rashes!” With one last click of her tongue, she turns on her heel. “I ought to have a word with Mrs. Hobbs; if this happens again—”

“Mother, _no!_ ” It was just supposed to be a stupid excuse; he wasn’t trying to get an innocent staff member punished over something she never even did. Priscilla, however, continues her march out of his suite. “No, mother, please, _wait!_ ”

She relents, turning around. From under the covers, Toby can feel Adil pinch at his leg, almost as if to say _we nearly got her out and now you’re calling her back_ _in?,_ but Toby pays it no mind. “It’s, er, such a recent change, I mean, what with all the new rationing—”

“This is a five-star hotel, Toby, I will not have trivial matters such as rationing interfere with the quality of service—”

“It’s been one week, Mother.” He huffs, lying back against the pillows. “They’re still adjusting. At least give it some time.”

She purses her lips. “Very well,” she says. “But I expect improvement within the week.”

“I’m sure it will,” he says—then, remembering he’s supposed to be ill, coughs into his arm.

“Oh, Toby.” When he looks up, his mother is at his bedside, delicately holding his hand. “Do take care of yourself.”

A lump rises in his throat. “I’ll try,” he says, still unused to the tentative affection. It seems his father’s death has softened her a bit.

She smiles, giving his hand one last squeeze before walking away. “Rest up,” she says. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

“Yes, Mother.”

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, the sheets rustle, and Adil pokes his head out.

Toby sighs, holding a hand over his chest. “I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to notice you not locking the door,” says Adil, pulling himself up to rest against the pillows. “You weren’t really in that much of a hurry, were you?”

“Oh, hush.” With a groan, Toby stands up and makes his way to the door, firmly bolting it shut and making sure it was really, truly, locked this time. “I completely forgot about Mother never knocking; I mean, she hardly stops by anymore now that D’Abberville has her attention.” Satisfied, he crosses the room and flops back onto the bed. “I didn’t realize she’d try to bother me again.”

He feels Adil’s hand settle on his shoulder. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Toby’s head whips around. “Pardon?” he asks as innocent as can be, even as his heart picks up its giddy pace. _He loves me. He loves me back._

“You heard me perfectly well,” says Adil with that grin that always drove Toby wild. He scoots in and leans their foreheads together, gently resting his hand on his cheek. “I love you, Toby.”

“And I love you, Adil,” he says, laughing giddily as he finally voices the sentiment he’s been holding on to ever since this morning—nay, ever since that fateful morning in September. “Now if you don’t mind, I believe we were in the middle of something?”

With another round of laughter, Adil pulls himself back over Toby, and they soon get lost in each other once more.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they were never caught and D'Abberville mysteriously left and was never heard from again and everything was fine, THE END


End file.
